


of frets and frantic fingers

by rakuenoasis



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Study, Holding Hands, Ish?? - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Pre-Slash, i call this self-projection, in ways that are probably not healthy, mentions of abuse, oh yeah, tenma-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23647447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rakuenoasis/pseuds/rakuenoasis
Summary: When Tenma's new role subjects him to a two-week grace period of mastering the art of playing a ukulele, his friends find ways to somewhat ease the pressure falling on the actor's shoulders.And his friends should include Yuki, right? He's always been there with his sharp tongue and unfaltering attitude, even during his worst moments. So surely Yuki would do something, right?Except he doesn't feel his presence, this time. And it's actually driving Tenma insane in ways he could not understand.(Like all heroic legends, there's always more to the story than what meets the eye.)
Relationships: Rurikawa Yuki/Sumeragi Tenma
Comments: 22
Kudos: 86





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> i was gonna put this out as a oneshot. but after realising that the tenyuki tag doesn't have a proper multi-chap fic, i got ideas

**1.**

Tenma's newest role is an average high school student, an eccentric teenager who grew up playing ukulele for a reason he could not grasp, an aspiring bassist from a band of five childhood friends.

With around two weeks before the first shooting, however, his newly-given assignment has proven itself to be much more difficult than what he had expected. Buying the necessary materials for this wasn't so hard on his part; he had already passed by a music shop that is said to sell instruments of high quality. He first bought an orange-coloured ukulele and a sunflower sticker that just so happened to catch his attention while looking through the accessories shelf. His actual bass, customised as per the details of the written order, is set to be delivered in two weeks time, just in time for shooting season to really begin. Although the producers promised such for him in a week's time, Isuke himself has proven to be much more useful in filing out that order with certain connections and a pinky promise to teach him ukulele _and_ bass once they're both free.

And this is where the problem lies for Tenma.

Isuke is out for the night, outside of Veludo way for some important matters with Izumi, which means Tenma has to make do with an assortment of YouTube videos for his first ukulele session. When word of this came around Mankai however, Kazunari was able to boil the assortment down to maybe two or three channels that are said to be good in teaching this kind of thing. Thank _God_ for Kazunari's quick techie skills, whichever deity blessed him with such. (Kazunari says afterwards that it shouldn't be considered a talent to begin with; Tenma, however, thinks otherwise.)

But it means consistency in all that he would be learning. And with consistency in content comes the need to actually perfect the shit out of this within two weeks or he'll be holding everyone else back. And if there's one thing Tenma Sumeragi _hates_ , it's letting things get delayed especially if the responsibility is on him. But does he have a reason to blame himself, to begin with?

Screw the Japanese celebrity industry or whoever decided that an actor without any knowledge on playing a single instrument should master one given a two-week grace period. Tenma hates to admit it. But he knows that everything he will be learning given these two weeks will fly right out of the window, right to the first scene where he's supposed to be playing a _full_ song on the school rooftop. With nonstop strumming, at that.

Still, it doesn't stop the sparkle-filled eyes from some of his dorm mates from following his fingers strumming to a note that _probably_ sounds like a C.

(He realises later that he put his finger on the wrong fret, his middle on the first instead of the third.

Tenma feels the heat rising on his cheeks.)

"That still sounds amazing, Tenma!"

Tenma isn't too sure if accepting compliments from someone who's most likely to find entertainment in watching paint dry would have any use in removing whatever dragging feeling is growing in his stomach. Not that he wouldn't refuse Sakuya's compliments. But he isn't sure if he actually needs it right now.

He then feels a hand stroking his shoulder in small circles.

"I'm sure you can get it right in time, Tenma."

"Mukkun's right," And Kazunari laughs with such fondness and delicacy, something that Tenma rarely ever hears. "Don't sweat out the small stuff like this. That's why your fam's here to help!"

Tenma sighs, throwing himself to the couch. "I'm not sure if watching me like this helps, though."

"...Moral support?"

"That won't get me to remember that I'm supposed to be playing C like," He places his shaking middle finger onto the bottom string of the third fret and strums with his right hand. "This."

It hurts. Tenma doesn't even realise that playing a string instrument would actually hurt this much.

"But at least you were able to play something!" Muku chirps happily. Well, he has a point.

"I guess you're right."

He sits back up and inhales deeply. 

He shakes his hand before positioning its thumb onto the second fret so as to "bar" (that's what the video teacher calls it) everything except the bottom string (an A string, he later learns). He then tries to strum with the opposite hand, feeling the pressure on his fingers as they push down on the plastic strings with such strength that didn't sound as lovely as whatever finger magic the bald man on his screen did.

A D chord, he says.

This is going to be a lot harder than he thought.

Some time after though, his roommate comes out with an empty teacup and maybe a pair of eyebags that have been getting more obvious as of lately. His face is blank with lips pursed into a thin line as he beelined his way to the living room where his Algebra textbook has been lying on the glass table, collecting dust.

It's Banri, having joined the anticipating group a little before Yuki's exit for some brighter artificial sunshine, who notices him first.

"You look like shit,"

Yuki takes the Algebra book into his arm before glancing at the Autumn troupe leaders with bloodshot eyes. "And Sherlock couldn't make it any more obvious."

"He's right, though," Kazunari giggles. "You should join us, at least. Tenten's banging out some sick tunes for us tonight!"

"Isn't that the term you use for drums though?"Banri asks.

Kazunari could only shrug with an even cheerier smile on his face. "Either way, he's killin' it tonight."

Yuki's glance then turns to said roommate in front of him, whose fingers seem to be trying to hold onto the neck of a ukulele in a position that seems to be desperately crying for help in the ugliest fashion possible. Unbelievable, he thinks. Earlier today, he overheard a phone conversation with Isuke about going to a music shop and something related to a drama Tenma will be shooting for in two weeks time. And much as Yuki hates to think about it, he knows how much Tenma is willing to sacrifice every bit of his soul to flourish in any role given to him. So between the intense stare Tenma places at his phone and his fingers trying to master whatever chord he's looking at, he isn't the least surprised about him getting riled up about it.

Tenma's sorry-looking state, the way his fingers are clenching to the strings as if his life depends on it and his eyebrows are creasing with much frustration than words can tell however, makes Yuki cringe inwardly. He definitely isn't going to be able to make it out to the first shoot knowing the basics. Somehow, there's the punch in his chest that's making him feel...bad. And Yuki _hates_ feeling bad about things, especially those that are frustrating to look at.

It's Muku's voice that snaps him back to reality.

"Yuki, you're shaking!"

He then blinks and tilts his head a bit upward.

Everyone, including the infuriating and sorry looking man he calls his roommate, has their eyes and full attention on him. He almost loses his grips on both teacup and textbook once he finally realises what's happening right now.

With the exhaustion he's been forced to deal with though, Yuki's still surprised that he's able to hide any trace of embarrassment on his face. But it doesn't stop the nagging feeling from making his skin turn ice cold. He _knows_ what this feeling is, why it's hitting him where it hurts, and how he hated it so much.

He doesn't get to let his thoughts put reason into words though as Tenma's exasperated sigh has disrupted his thinking.

"Look, at least help me worry less about one thing; get some sleep. Please."

And it makes him surprised, more awake even. Tenma? Voicing his worry about Yuki? In front of a bunch of people?

He's _really_ losing it, Yuki thinks.

"He means business,"he hears Banri whisper to Sakuya and Muku. 

Muku could only shoot a sad smile at him. "Please, Yuki? We can always review together tomorrow. We can help and learn from each other that way."

Yuki could only sigh in response. It's not like he could refuse a kind offer from Muku of all people. And he knows better than to disobey his leader once he starts, in Banri's words, "meaning business".

"Fine. Let me just put this," he slightly raises the teacup on his hand. "Away."

Nothing needs to be said afterwards. Yuki skips his way into the kitchen where he gently places the teacup next to the sink. Afterwards, he grips onto the textbook and starts making his way back to their room but not without sparing a final glance at Tenma and his crowd of hawks, watching him intently as he tries to play another chord.

Yuki feels like he's supposed to say something. But the exhaustion drags him into the room and then to his bed first before the words could finally come out.

_That night, neither Tenma nor Yuki were able to sleep._


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to depression, we will be updating the fic on a whim

**2.**

Morning comes, before Tenma could even let that realisation sink in.

He slowly sits up, basks in the morning sunlight filtering through his window, lets himself stretch his limbs out until they've reached their limit before he could finally physically get up to start the day.

It's when he descends down the ladder, however, that he finally notices something amiss.

He peeps at the other side of the room and realises the neatly made bed and the absence of brown boots that were originally near the ladder.

"He's gone,"

He isn't surprised in the least, though. Yuki has been taking cram classes left and right, as of lately. Tenma doesn't see the point of starting now. He's just in his first year of high school, after all. If there's one thing freshmen shouldn't have to worry about in the slightest, it's the fear of not being able to get accepted into a university. Not that Tenma has the right to say this or have a stand, knowing that he won't land in any university once high school is over. He's never even planned on it, as his life has already been planned out accordingly with fortune and reputation enough to last him a lifetime.

It's Muku who attempts to fill in those blanks for him, saying that Yuki's aspirations run higher than anyone else could dream of. That Yuki only dreams of wandering beyond the limitations of his life. That Yuki wants to get into the best university in the world in order to reach what he desires.

Tenma hasn't stopped thinking about it, lately. About the measures and extremes Yuki has been doing as of lately for some reason that still couldn't fill those spaces no matter how well Muku tries to explain it or how much Izumi comforts him into thinking that he'll be fine because he's _Yuki_ after all. He can get through this. He knows when to take a break, after all.

But the look on him last night is burned into his memory, even more than what the C chord looks like or how the teacher onscreen strums his instrument like an angel with a harp. It crawls into his mind, never leaving him, never letting go, never letting him get the actual sleep he needs as of lately. He senses the weariness, stares into his reddening eyes like a child staring at a monster in fear. He remembers his shaky figure, his lost eyes nervously scanning for something he couldn't understand. He wonders and thinks of the what-ifs: what if Muku didn't snap him out of it? What would've happened to him?

Something weighs on his chest even more, almost as if he's going to plummet to the ground if he doesn't use his strength to pull himself back up. Something _nags_ inside him, _punches_ him for release and open space. 

But Tenma could only sigh and descend further down to the floor and right to the door.

He has a long day ahead of him, after all.

He skips the morning meeting.

(And he feels _terrible_. He feels terrible knowing that another set of plays will be around the corner, waiting to be brought to life. He feels terrible, not being there to sit on this one because of this stupid role.

But he has to. He can't afford to take a step back now, not when he's taken so much of his time only going forward and up.)

He waits in the balcony, ukulele in sweaty and shaking hands, blocking out the voices coming from the living room, the bursting temptation of running to them to _be_ there. 

Minutes have felt like centuries for Tenma before Isuke could waltz in with a smile on his face and his own ukulele on his hold.

"So, Tenma, do you want to begin now?"

His first assignment for the week: master the chords of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.

The song only requires around four chords: C, F, G7, and G. The reason for this, according to Isuke, is so that his fingers could get used to the slow transition between notes and positions. Something along those lines. Tenma still hasn't picked up ukulele terminology to understand what he really means. But he does understand frets, how distance between fingers even in the same position could make a lot of difference. The finger position for G, for instance, would sound so different if dragged along the frets. It could sound bad. It could sound good. But music is music. It will _always_ find a way to make even the worst sound a melody no one could ever forget.

At least, that's what Isuke's been trying to say in the middle of their three hours spent together trying to get the hang of the so-called "common chords". Tenma doesn't set back on wax poetry or whatever the passion in Isuke's eyes could mean. He just thinks it's slightly cool that plastic strings can make music.

The session cuts short, however, with Izumi calling Isuke for "some important matters". And at nine o'clock, Tenma finally digs into his toast, taking his _time_ with it and thanking the gods for making food so scrumptious and wonderful.

He hears Omi laugh, from a distance.

"You're really getting into this more than usual, Tenma."

He hums, as if it's obvious.

"Of course. Tch," He swallows the bacon and takes a swig of orange juice. "I spent three hours on an empty stomach listening to Isuke preach to me about music like it's the gospel. Of _course_ it would make me starve."

"Well, you're going to get used to it soon, I assume?"

Tenma lays back on his chair and nods.

Omi then comes to the table to collect the remaining empty plates before patting his back.

"Don't push yourself too hard, though. If you need something to eat just for you to get recharged, you can always let me know."

Tenma's eyes slightly widen in surprise.

"Wow...that's...thank you."

Omi chuckles. "I think I'm being a little too...coddly, is that what you call it?"

Tenma laughs. "No, no. Really. I'll be sure to tell you if I need something to fill my stomach. Thank you, Omi."

He wipes the table, making sure to not go near the spot Tenma's currently occupying. "The passion you have...you just reminded me of someone, that's all."

_Someone_ _?_

Now that Tenma thinks about it, Taichi did say something about Omi, about a lost friend.

"Na...chi? Is that right?"

When Tenma blinks again, he sees the sadness slowly filling up in the other's eyes.

"Not just him, of course."

Omi then shakes his head and brings the plates to the sink.

"Say, Tenma. I'm sure you've heard of this person before, since you're big in celebrity circles and all. But that person was a dear friend to me."

Tenma looks at his plate in thinking. A person he's supposed to know? Sure, Tenma can identify who's who even based on the best vagues and worst clues anyone could make up. But he definitely hasn't heard of any celebrity having connections with Omi, let alone being friends with him.

"You've heard of her, right," Omi's voice brings him out of thinking. "The Alabaster, that's what they call her."

Something clicks only slightly. He _knows_ he's heard this name before.

"Kind of familiar. But I'm not too sure."

There's a hiccup of silence that passes between them.

"Back in the day, she used to appear in gigs and live shows all over Japan. Veludo Way, especially. Her band, Suspectors, used to be a hit. But she was always the star of the show,"

He hears the water run.

"I met her back in my biking days. She'd shred notes and chords and music that almost everyone thought a guitarist couldn't do. She can fill in for bass and piano and even a second guitarist, if needed. She can run a whole band with just her guitar."

Tenma's eyes widen in surprise.

"She sounds like an amazing person,"

Another hiccup of silence passes between them before Omi could finally say a word and he could hear the metals clinking together under the running water.

"You should check out her songs," Omi replies with his usual, cheery tone. "You might get inspired. I know I still have her ukulele covers somewhere. I'll be sure to give them to you as soon as possible."

The "thanks" comes out quieter than he expects.

He holes himself up in their room for the entire morning but not for reasons known to anyone else.

Instead, he finds himself in front of his phone screen, surfing through videos and blog posts about the band Omi talked about. He stares at "The Alabaster", with her black and red dyed locks dancing along the up-and-down rhythm of her body, her fingers going in positions too quick for his mind to figure out what chords she could be making or what's actually happening in that moment. He sees the flurry of red lightsticks waving in unison and speed, the cameras zooming onto nobody else but her. 

Their music is impressive, although too loud and metal for Tenma to really appreciate it. Masumi would probably appreciate it. Taichi, even. Would Yuki even appreciate metal? He may have the personality of someone who'd actually dig into metal but he's all strawberry chocolates and pinks for him to even consider the idea of it.

And then he feels his heart racing right after. How did _Yuki_ get into his train of thoughts, of all the people that could fit in with metal music and loud screamos? Yuki doesn't fit in this puzzle. It's not like Tenma for him to even think about Yuki like this. Just what is getting into him lately?

The sinking feeling comes back, weighing down on him in his bed once again.

He stops the video and puts his phone away.

He needs to focus on this ukulele shit right now.

Tenma places his middle finger on the third fret, A string. Compared to yesterday, he actually remembers what makes a C chord now. But he still feels like something is wrong. Like something isn't in its place. That there's something Isuke's not telling him yet that's going to make all of this flop.

He erases the thought of it though, and attempts to recall the chords that were taught to him that morning.

And he sings to the tune, hoping that he'd get it right.

"Twinkle, twinkle..."

He pauses for a bit. How does an F chord work again?

It takes a while before he finally remembers that he has to place his index finger onto the first fret, E string and his middle finger onto the second fret, G string.

He strums it and cringes inwardly at how bad it sounds.

He doesn't even attempt to choke out the, "...little star" that was ready to come out of his mouth.

Isuke said that practise will really make it better. But just how much practise does he need before he can finally impress the directors and basically everyone behind the show? And how much practise can he take before he will break?

He brushes off the thought once more, adrenaline beginning to rush as he positions himself again to play the C chord, finger pressing the string down so as not be able to let it go no matter what.

Tenma decides to repeat it until he can finally get the first half of it right.

_Nighttime falls and Yuki comes into their room, dragging the books with him to the table and climbing up to his bed._

_Tenma doesn't hear the "Good job, hack." nor the "I'm back." escaping from his lips._

_Instead, he hears the sound of heavy breathing and the silence of a deep sleeper echoing at the walls of their room._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave comments if possible. i like comments :')


	3. 2.5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i was gonna go on w the supposed chapter 3 for this one but then i realised that for a tenyuki fic, i havent actually.....put out a (solid) tenyuki scene yet
> 
> oops

**2.5.**

Tenma wakes up but remains on his bed for what seems like hours (or, at least that's what it feels like to him).

The room is quiet. He doesn't hear the whirring of a sewing machine nor the incoherent weird mumbling that'd usually scare him back to consciousness. Nor does he hear the sheets of paper being crumpled. Nor does he hear the sound of pens clicking or pages flipping or a highlighter striking its mark across the surface either.

He doesn't see any trace of sunlight filtering through his window but finds an emerging shade of blue in the sky, and that makes Tenma find the situation odd. Yuki would normally make a ruckus as early as 4 or 5 am, finding his way to either the sewing machine or the mountain of textbooks he'd go over from sunrise to sundown without catching a sweat. He's like a breathing, well-oiled machine continuously burning on fuel without any kind of break. And on a daily basis, it'd annoy Tenma so _so_ much. 

But if this isn't the case, Tenma thinks, then could it be that Yuki is getting actual sleep this time?

The relieving thought of his roommate finally unconscious on his bed beyond six in the morning is what makes him sit up. His eyes try to scan the bed across him for any sign, any proof that Yuki "hasn't-slept-properly-for-maybe-a-month-straight" Rurikawa is actually on his bed with his eyes shut and his peaceful, relaxed face staring back at him in some way or another. (And Tenma "stressed-from-societal-expectations-but-knows-when-to-catch-a-sweat" Sumeragi does _not_ find the thought enticing and worth it but...but what? Crap, he shouldn't be thinking of this kind of thing at all!)

Instead, he finds a bed well-made with the bedsheets uncrumpled and everything else in its place, even his boots.

Tenma gets a feeling. An unwanted feeling that only worsens when his eyes finally land on the empty, vacated study table and—

_You have got to be kidding me._

He comes out an hour later, ukulele in hand, with his suspicions finally confirmed.

"And just how _long_ have you been here?"

If someone were to tell Tenma's past self that the Yuki he'd be seeing now is way worse than the one he saw the other night in the living room, Tenma wouldn't actually believe it.

Because Yuki on the natural is already scary. Yuki on the stressed spectrum, especially as it goes up and up, gets scarier. What Tenma's looking at isn't...Yuki at all. Yuki's supposed to the epitome of beauty and cuteness and definitely _not_ the look of an insomniac who's entire face shriveled up after not being able to really sleep for years. He's supposed to look young and adorable and pure. He's not supposed to look like eyebags and reddening eyes and dark circles and disheveled hair and temples that look like they're about to pop up if he doesn't stop. (And if exhausted looks could kill, _Tsuzuru_ would lose on the spot.)

"Give or take, a couple of hours." Yuki replies rather quietly, too focused on the book in front of him to really pay attention to his presence. And it ticks Tenma off, more than it should.

"But you _just_ took the mock exam today!"

Yuki takes a humble sip of what Tenma guesses from the overpowering aroma is coffee. "Doesn't mean I can laze around yet." His eyes then go back to the textbook he's been reading. "They're finally giving me topics beyond first year so I need to work double hard."

But between the two of them, it looks like Tenma's veins have actually popped first.

He strides to him and forcefully pries the book from his hands.

"Hey—!"

"Now," Tenma snaps the book close. He takes a glance at the cover (an integrated chemistry book for second year students) before letting his attention go back to not-Yuki. And oh how he _wishes_ that it really is not him, at all.

"You are going to go straight to bed. I don't want to hear a sewing machine making any noise. I don't want to hear from anyone that you're doing another knitting or whatever project. I don't want anyone to walk in and tell me later that you have some weird secret stash of notes or whatever that you are using. And," He points his finger at Yuki before he could protest. "I don't want to hear anything about you locking the door. Since you aren't going to take these orders from Tenma Sumeragi, I'm giving them to you as your _troupe_ _leader_."

Yuki sneers in response. "This isn't even related to the play. What does it matter?"

Tenma's expression slightly softens but still remains in composure and firmness. "It's a troupe leader's job to make sure that his members are in tip-top shape even outside of rehearsals and plays. And that includes _you_ , Rurikawa."

He huffs in response. "So we're on last name basis now, huh."

"I'm serious," Tenma simply replies. "I definitely won't forgive you if the director announces a new play for us and you decide to pass out on us on the first day of practise."

They both know that it's more than that though. Even with the total seriousness written all over Tenma's eyes, the subtle expression of concern is still there weaved in its holes. 

It's this kind of look, something that is so Tenma yet not, that makes Yuki finally sigh in defeat.

"Fine, fine. Anything for the hack to shut up."

"I'm not a hack," he barks in response. "And I want you to leave this place empty-handed. I'll bring your books back after my lesson."

Yuki stands up, an eyebrow raised. "You better not burn them. These are all secondhand and hard to find. And you definitely don't want to pay for new ones, do you?"

And just like that, he's back to being the Tenma Sumeragi they knew. The Tenma Sumeragi with his easily defeated yet annoyed face, with his forehead scrunched and teeth clenched during the times when he doesn't talk.

"What makes you think that I will?!"

"Yeah, yeah. Glad to know that I could trust you on that."

Yuki finally manages to strut pass him, although his shivering legs rather look too weak and jelly-like for him to be able to carry himself back to bed. He doesn't know if it's the effect of waking up so early, the stress over his current conflict or the worry but Tenma wishes that there's more that he could do than just bark orders of going to bed at Yuki. Like carrying him to bed, for instance, seeing that any moment now and Yuki could collapse on the way back to their room. His mind drifts from that thought to the mental image of him bridal carrying Yuki, shushing him gently as he takes every step of the staircase, opening the door while his hold on him becomes even firmer, placing him on his bed, tucking him in, and even sparing a—

He lets out a yelp by accident. Yuki jumps at that in surprise.

"What is it?"

Tenma's face starts to redden as his mind tries to erase that mental image with no such luck. Because it's there: the feeling of Yuki's entire existence on his arms, his lemon-scented hair brushing against his nose, cold skin touching warmth as their lips finally—

"It doesn't matter! Just go to sleep!"

There is a pause. Then Yuki groans. "Annoying shitty actor. So loud..."

He sees Yuki glance at the orange ukulele on his hand, stares at it for a bit longer than he realises, then leaves until Tenma and his roommate's pile of books are left on the balcony with the sun slowly starting to rise from behind.

Tenma couldn't shake off the feeling that something is... _wrong_. Way off should be the better term for it. But it still doesn't...fit. Like something was just taken away from him. No, that couldn't be right. It's like the situation felt incomplete, like the talk isn't exactly done even if it's clear that Yuki is already on his way to bed. So what is this feeling, the bouncing feeling that is making his mind short-circuit into a feeling something other than up and—

No.

_Something lacking would be a term for it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the making of this fanfic, i tried to play my ukulele w a hanger and then a pen respectively
> 
> no, my strings did not break


	4. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after going through tenma sumeragi brainrot last night, i got my spirit to write this again

**3.**

Morning practises come to a halt again, when an unexpected call for Isuke arrives. 

Once again, Tenma is alone in the living room, his sweaty hands trying to keep hold onto the ukulele. He wears a look that's even worse than the days before.

For every mistake he does, he groans and attempts to repeat the entire song. For every touching encounter with the string that turns into a stinging mark on his fingers, he clenches his teeth even more, his head almost ready to pop off before he could ground himself back and repeat that he can do it. He's Tenma Sumeragi, after all. He's Tenma who never makes a mistake. He's Tenma who has chased storms, survived one fall after the other, and triumphs through everything with nothing but pure willpower. It's just a ukulele. _It's just Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_. He can't be bad at this.

He hears a shuffle coming from behind and a silent "Good morning." making its way from the living room to the kitchen, followed by a "Good morning, Yuki. You look better-rested." and an "I've seen worse." in response.

Damn that Yuki. Didn't he tell him to not move a muscle at all for the entire day?

(But Tenma is too tired to care. He has his lack of musical intelligence and a ukulele holding a thousand questions and even more confusing points that Tenma could just not understand.

He wants to scream. He wants to hold his head and cry over this. But Tenma Sumeragi doesn't cry! He's invincible! He's _strong_!)

Minutes pass into what seem like hours when he spots Yuki from the corner of his vision, long pink skirt and brown boots facing ahead onto the door.

"I'll be back tonight. Bring my books back like you promised, okay?"

Before Tenma could even ask where Yuki is really going, he suddenly disappears with the door finally behind him.

Something cracks inside Tenma again. And again, just like before, he feels unable to breathe.

The static in his brain can only do so much to lose sight of what he's really doing.

(For a moment, he tries to stop. He lets go of the ukulele and runs off.)

Kazunari does not expect the knock on his door to be Misumi.

He doesn't expect the very worrying look on him which flips an internal switch in him from chill to actually-super-concerned.

"Sumi...?"

Misumi doesn't even need to ask for permission if he can go inside. Kazunari immediately lets him inside and into the part of his and Muku's shared room with the soft cushions on the floor and the table that would separate them. 

Kazunari lets Misumi speak.

"It's about Tenma."

He sighs. He sighs in a way that says "I-can-see-where-this-is-going-and-I-don't-like-it."

"I get it, don't worry. Tenma's situation is kind of concerning..."

"Kazu...can you give me advice?"

He raises his eyebrow at that. "Advice on what? Tenma?"

"You see," Misumi lets his fingers run through the surface of their table. Somehow, it helps him sort out his feelings and thoughts which is what he really needs now especially since he's seen _everything_ from a while ago. "I kinda wanna help him. But I don't thinking giving Mr. Triangle will work. He doesn't even look triangle. He looks like a...what's the word...that shape with ten sides..."

"Decagon?"

"That's right!" He beams at that for a bit before his slumped expression returns. "It's an ugly shape. Ugly, ugly, and sad. Really scary."

Kazunari hums. "So basically, you want to give Tenma some support so he'll feel okay again?"

"Yes, yes!" Misumi nods. "I mean, I know that it won't help Tenma with his entire problem. But..."

The other could only smile. "Sumi, don't worry. I get it. And I think I might have an idea that could work. But first," He then stands up, makes his way to his desk, and grabs his fedora before wearing it. "Let's make a stop at the bookstore."

_Although her true identity is still unknown, it is said that the ALABASTER started her music career at the age of 6 when she performed with her ukulele on the streets after school, despite only knowing how to play for a week. She mastered both the electric guitar and bass at the age of 9. At 10, she joined the talent competition in Hanae Elementary where she won first place. This caught the attention of known musician, Izaya Frederico, who she trained under his guidance until she was able to establish her own music career at the age of 12. At 13, she joined SUSPECTORS and then later GUMIGUMI which disbanded two years later. At 14, SUSPECTORS was able to tour at least half of Japan earning more than ten million yen in profit from concert tickets to merch._

_At the age of 16, however, she disappeared. To this day, she's still noted by police as a missing person. According to some fans, she was last seen with her bike and guitar on the highway. No further knowledge on whereabouts has been reported._

_Two weeks after the ALABASTER was reported missing, SUSPECTORS disbanded as well._

It's about one in the afternoon when Tenma finally emerges from his room.

He's had his head barked off by Sakyo too many times about making the food wait. But he's too numb to even feel the worry that comes with it possibly happening. 

He's kept his ukulele away, on the sofa of his room where he wouldn't even bother sparing a glance at. He's had enough. He knows he has less than two weeks left but he's _done_.

Descending down the staircase, he thinks about what might happen if he thinks about quitting. They could definitely find a better actor with actual ukulele skills, to begin with. He wouldn't have to hold them back. He could finally give his ukulele away and never have to think about playing an instrument ever again. Everything could return to normal. Everything could return to the way things were before this mess and Tenma can finally be able to let go of this mess as a result.

Except things wouldn't return to normal. What will the media say about his quitting? What will his _father_ say about quitting? He lets those thoughts run into his mind: how many fans and journalists will express their disappointment, how many lectures and beatings he'll get from his father, and how much of a hassle it will be for them to cast somebody in two weeks. He thinks about Isuke, who's sharing his love for music for what seems to be like the first time in forever. He remember Sakuya's sparkling eyes when he first played the C chord. He remembers Kazunari's enthusiasm when he told Banri that he's actually going to commit to it. He thinks about Omi's offers to make him meals for when he gets bummed out about this. He thinks about the people who've silently been cheering him on, pushing him to do his best.

His mind goes back to the magazine interviews. They said he's a pillar, once that has seen the worst of Ancient Greece's tragedies and wrath brought upon by its deities. He's too strong, beyond the expectations of others and even more when he surpasses them.

But he can feel it. He can feel himself crumbling down, the chances of him collapsing approaching its hundred percent sureness. And this time, he doesn't know when to get back up. He doesn't know _how_ to pick up the pieces. What will his fans say? What will the press say? What will his parents say when they see that Tenma has once again _failed_?

Unable to breath with his vision swimming in places once more, Tenma drags his way to the kitchen when he sees a basket with an orange bow on the table.

It doesn't look there seems to be food inside. Curious, Tenma examines the basket before seeing strips of paper, both in coloured and white. He then makes out the top of it all with an open card that reads,

_"Tenma, we believe in you! Δ Δ Δ_

_YES TENTEN KNOCK THEM OUT IN THE PARK!!!! - KAZUUUU"_

He feels the first surge of air he's had in a while finally shooting into his nostrils. 

He's seen this before. He'd usually see his co-kid actors from back then get these kinds of baskets with notes written from both their parents, friends, and even classmates expressing whatever has given them that kick of adrenaline during the shootings.

All Tenma's even gotten was a pat in the back from the director and a word or two about doing his best.

He doesn't really know what to make this out. The actor makes sure that nobody is in the same room as him before he finally takes it upon himself to sit down and go through the notes one by one. Some are written in coloured papers. Some are screenshots from messages in LIME. Regardless, it doesn't stop the feeling in his heart to soar even more as he reads more and more of these notes.

_"Tenma, I like your playing! I believe in you :D Just don't forget to rest, okay? - Sakusaku"_

_"Not really good with words. Just don't pass out during shooting, I guess. - Masumi"_

_"If you need help in replacing the broken strings in case, hit me up any time. I've done this a lot for my brother many times :) - Tsuzuru"_

_"Good luck, Ukulele Hero - C.I."_

_"Do your best. - U.C."_

_"tnema, gud luck!!!!!!!!!! fite and relapse well ok?????? - citron!!!!!"_

_"Tenma, Juchan, Kyuchan, and I are wishing you so much luck. Don't forget to take breaks in a while, okay? We'll be cheering you on! ^^; - Muku, Juchan, Kyuchan"_

_"can't wait to see ya rocking on twinkle twinkle little star on the stage someday. i'll cheer u on with a big banner that says 'GO ORANGE BOY GO' so don't give up on us aight. - banri"_

_"Wanted to give my own message. Good luck. - Juza"_

_"I've said this before but don't be afraid to call for me if you need support, okay? - Omi"_

_"The shitty man and I wish you luck. Lots of it - Azami_

_P.S. Excuse bon's language. He means well. - Sakyo"_

_"TENTENNNNNNN I LOVE YOU AND U ARE AMAZING AAAAAAAA YOU CAN DO ITTTTT - TAI"_

_"On behalf of me and Tasuku, we wish you luck. Don't be afraid to come to us when you need help. - Tsumugi and Tasuku"_

_"I'm not letting him speak for me. Good luck. - Tasuku"_

_"Alas, let me give you this exquisite poem to inspire you in your musical journey!_

_Ukulele strings  
My heart sees  
Melody going ARIBABA, ARIBABA  
HALLELUJAH! Praise the music of heaven!_

_\- Homare Arisugawa"_

_"Sorry for Alice. Good luck. Don't die. - Hisoka"_

_"I wish you the best of luck. :) - Azuma"_

_"Don't overwork yourself. Mistakes are important to succeed. - Guy"_

_"Tenma, good luck! Keep on fighting but take breaks if you need to, okay? I'll make you a curry burger later for dinner so look forward to it. - Izumi"_

He goes over those notes again, twice, ten times more, before he can look up at the ceiling with what could be the widest smile he's worn in weeks. He lets the feeling in his heart jump, lets his tears take over when his mind can't voice out his emotions. 

Something warm inside him spreads. Something that makes his heart flutter and body all warm until he could melt. He doesn't know what this is. He doesn't know if this has a name or an exact word that could describe it. But he brings all of it through his tears. He lets them flow, lets the silent gasps of air except from his lips as he feels all the intensity on his shoulders disappear. He feels so free and floating and he doesn't know if this is normal nor good. But he knows it's some kind of happiness. So maybe it's good?

He doesn't know who started it but he can't thank them enough for it. Now more than ever, he feels the rush of energy back. 

Tenma wants to play again. This time, he'll do it right. This time, he'll let himself go at his own pace. This time, he'll forgive himself just for a bit if he does mess up.

The lingering thought of where Yuki's note is catches up to him. He digs through the notes again to see if he missed it only to find another piece of paper with Kazunari's writing on it.

_"Sorry, Tenten!! We tried to get ahold of Yuki but we weren't able to reach him. I'm sure he's cheering you on though!!!! - Kazunari"_

Tenma feels the punch in his gut harder than he expected.

So what if they weren't able to get ahold of Yuki? He must have seemed so busy if he was in a rush to get out of the dormitory. He has his reasons. And it doesn't mean that Yuki isn't wishing for him luck as well, right? What's one note compared to the twenty-six that he got? Shouldn't he be happy about that instead?

Even so, the way back to their shared room with the basket in his hands feels like it's taking much longer than when he first got out.

_Nighttime comes._

_Tenma notices Yuki come into the room without a word. He sees him change into his sleepwear and packs his things back accordingly, including a piece of paper (?) that he leaves on the table, next to his discarded ukulele._

_He immediately sees him go to bed._

_The churning, irritating feeling in Tenma's chest only makes itself more present and ever-growing as the sleepless hours pass. And he hates it._

_He hates Yuki or whatever it is for making him feel like this. (But what did he do, anyways?)_


	5. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot about this fic for a whole sec holy shit
> 
> anyways this isnt my best writing rn bc im saving them for later shit but uh. have this update ig KLDFJKLDJFK

**4.**

Tenma doesn't talk to Yuki the day after. And then the day after that.

Which bothers pretty much...everyone else whose name _isn't_ Yuki Rurikawa, to be exact. Normally, Yuki would've already teased Tenma long enough until he accidentally spills out a word or two to him, despite all promises _not_ to talk to him "anymore". Yet here is Yuki two days into whatever revolutionary silent protest Tenma's been holding, sewing for their upcoming play and reviewing for his exams like the usual.

And it pretty much amazes Muku how Yuki has been able to keep this up without losing his cool.

"It's simply, really," Yuki casually says on one of those nights as they sit in front of the balcony's view. "I didn't do anything to him. Had I know that I did do something, I would've done something about it already," And then he pauses in thought. "I've been out of the house a lot these days. You know that pretty well. In fact, you're the one who knows my schedule down to a T."

Muku turns to the next page of Yuki's hand-me-down chemistry book and nods. "I've known that, of course...but..."

Yuki writes something down on what seems to be his advanced algebra book before looking up at the boy in front of him. "So don't squeeze yourself into this. This is between me and the hack. Or...rather," His head then turns to Tenma who's just across them, although still distances away from where they're currently sitting, fumbling over his ukulele as he tries to lean on their door. "This is something he should figure out for himself. Whatever he's doing right now isn't going to solve it, though."

He then turns back to an even more sulky-looking Muku. "You're right, I guess."

"Alright. Let's get back to work."

But deep inside, Yuki is getting pretty annoyed at the distance between them, moreso at whatever's possessed Tenma to act more childish than usual.

Three days left until the first shooting will commence.

Tenma was finally given the stamp of approval by the production team about his ukulele playing, including a sheet music of the first song he'll be expected to play in a few days and an official declaration that MANKAI Company's Isuke Matsukawa will continue to further guide him in his musical studies. 

It amazes him, really. How despite all the hardships and tears he's put into getting this stupid instrument to work, he's done it again and made it to the finish line without stumbling that hard. The weeks spent in so much anxiety has now become yet another anticlimactic point in his life. But who was he kidding? Of _course_ he would've been able to figure this out regardless of what could've happened to him, whether or not he decided to get Isuke as his instructor or even get a tutor him in the first place. Because he's Tenma Sumeragi. Because he's the Icarus who was able to successfully to the sun without burning himself off. Because he's been promised a legend that will be told to generations of children and adults alike, the story of a man born from the sun's rays destined to succeed despite everything else.

Except it doesn't feel like he _has_ succeeded, like he's learned absolutely nothing from all this. Isn't it the usual for a hero to learn from his journeys? So why does it feel like Tenma's still walking on eggshells when his feet should be buried on wet soil instead?

It doesn't make sense. Even the answers that have been coming out of his mouth haven't been making any real sense.

Sometimes, Tenma wonders if his mouth is a whole other entity. If it's grown so independent from his mind after years of practise that everything that's been coming out it is completely polar to what the rest of his body says.

Is that how being a liar feels like? When Tenma's been so honest at how proud he is at his successes, such as this one?

Or maybe it's because he's been seated on the white couch, eyeing on the reporter for two eternities that Tenma's grown too fixiated at the discomfort to be able to look elsewhere.

That must be it, right?

"You always just got to remember of course,"Tenma's mouth runs on as his favourite reporter just nods along with him. "That with every success comes a hundred stories of tears and failures. But the end result is always what people will want to see. So that means you just have to get back up no matter how many times you'll fall, right? Every fall comes with a lesson after all."

(Liar. He feels like a whole liar.)

The door to their room has been shut close later that day, preventing anyone and even Yuki to get in. The lights have been switched off. Tenma could only do so much and curl under his blanket as he holds the phone with his shaky hands.

He doesn't know how long he's been staring at the video version of himself playing in front of his directors or at the viewer count rapidly increasing with every blink he makes. What he _does_ know however is that he definitely wants it deleted from existence.

But why would he? He was able to hit all the notes right, didn't he? He didn't mess up. He didn't pause and forget what note he should be playing next. He played like how any regular ukulele player would, didn't he? Heck, he was even able to get down the gist of fingerstyle playing as a little challenge for his check-up with the production team. And he _passed_ , with flying colours. He passed and succeeded so hard that his parents actually lasted more than five minutes on the phone with him. And they haven't given him that treatment in _years_. He got called up with more interviews than usual, meet-ups with famous musicians, and even a mini solo concert for next month already being prepared for him.

So what's there to grieve about when he could rejoice at the fact that he didn't fail the entire production team, his parents, and possibly Mankai to an extent?

He lets the video loop, lets the noise pierce his eardrums, lets him stay in that churning feeling until the video stops and he has to repeat it _again_ just to see if this was the truth or if he's letting the anxiety get to him again.

But instead, Tenma lets his finger change tabs. He ends up listening to yet another one of The Alabaster's old ukulele videos, lets the smooth and gradual strumming of her own ukulele mend whatever wreckage his own painful playing has left in his mind. 

It does nothing to ease the bricked feeling in his chest, though. But at least Tenma could spare himself from whatever embarrassment he's been watching for the past hour.

They played the same song, a beautiful ukulele rendition of _Shima Uta_. The only difference is that The Alabaster's sounds miles and universes apart compare to Tenma's, almost like they've been playing different songs this entire time and he's only figured it out now that his cover is trending all across the country.

It only leaves nothing but a bad taste in his mind, a bothered feeling of unbearable distance between them. What does she have that he doesn't? What makes _hers_ so special and so better compared to Tenma's when they've been following the same blueprint for this song? What makes her _different_ from him?

The video stops sooner before he knows it and Tenma shifts tabs again, back to his video where he finds a very recent comment that caught his eye.

_i don't know if it's just me...but it feels kind of grating to hear doesnt it www_

This person, whoever they are, is lucky that Tenma's on an anonymous account right now. Otherwise, he'd rack another group of press reporters by his doorstep the next day questioning what he's about to reply to it.

_glad i'm not the only one who noticed it wwwww_

And Tenma, for all his greatness and the overpowering support he's been getting everywhere, considers himself even luckier that someone finally gets it instead.

Dinner comes in silence and goes just the same for Tenma until something odd catches his eye.

And no, it's not just because Yuki is surprisingly home earlier than usual today. But it's the weird looking thing he's holding that interests him. A little inching towards the balcony entrance and some tilting to his head only reveals to Tenma that the weird looking thing isn't _just_ a weird looking thing. In fact, it's only making the entire situation weirder than Tenma expected.

There's no mistaking it. It's _definitely_ a ukulele. A bright pink one, that is, with a dark brown neck and some rather old-looking bear stickers dotting over its back.

There's no mistaking it as well as to why Yuki would have a ukulele in the first place. Tenma isn't stupid. Anyone could connect the dots and conclude something that's just outright obvious. 

And from the very first strum, the very first note that unconsciously widens Tenma's eyes in utter shock, he just _knows_ that it can't be something else. 

But it can't be real, either. Yet here is Tenma right now, standing metres just behind the boy he's been deliberately avoiding for days, watching as he plays something he couldn't describe. No. He couldn't describe _what_ he's playing. But it makes his heart jump just enough until it could float, make his mind sway in illusion at the sound of something that sounds too perfect to be played on a regular ukulele, by an ordinary ukulele player at least.

The melodious voice that sways with the song just makes Tenma's heart flutter even more. It's very poorly pronounced English, as expected of someone like Yuki whose weakness has always been this crummy subject. And yet it does nothing but make him even more hypnotised even more at the quiet somewhat lullaby he's been playing on his seat.

_Meteor shower  
Quick, take cover  
But the hues in our hair compliment one another  
I'd sell my own bones for sapphire stones  
'Cause blue's your favourite colour_

It then stops in a sudden halt. And Tenma finds himself back to where he really is, just as his eyes finally meet Yuki's angry ones, the first eye contact they've had in days.

But he's not exactly grounded back to reality though, still dazed by the magic that just possessed his mind. It's not not until his piercing voice finally breaks the spell that Tenma is finally aware of the situation at hand.

Oh fuck.

"You," Yuki starts. "How long have you been listening?"


End file.
